#absolutely fantastic that whole sequence of events was just me sitting there wondering when

[franeridan]

actually my favorite trope in one piece is when something very bad happens and then luffy's typical luck does something to fix it only for luffy to fuck it up and make it even worse and the cycle keeps on repeating a few times over and you're just sitting there wondering when lady luck will just give up on this dumb idiot already, love that

[charturnus]

The snaps from the same little breaks in your soul

Ship: Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader

a/n: I am on the brink of academic burn-out, but fanfics are a priority. The ending to chapter 6 is actually the first thing I wrote regarding this whole sequence of events!! Summer is right at my doorstep so that chapter should be headed your way soon!

Warnings: high profile people being mean; jealousy; spoilers for Othello I guess?? But the play has been out since 1622 so get it together

Wordcount: 6.4K

Summary: Chapter V; Did you get enough of love, my little dove? AU

The one where you have your pretty woman moment, you watch Othello with Wanda, and Natasha Romanoff ruins your party.

Previous chapter

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The days after Pepper and Kate’s initial visit fly by in a flurry of make-up test runs and media training. After a few days of this, I am sent out into the world, armed with Wanda’s credit card and a personal stylist, in order to find myself a dress. 

Pepper has given strict orders for the colour scheme of the dress, since I’m supposed to match with Wanda. My jewellery too must meet certain requirements, something about the cut of the stones, and it all complimenting my dress. I’m not really sure. I zoned out halfway through Pepper’s instructions, trusting that the stylist knows what she’s doing. 

She seems to have it all under control, anyway. The woman, who introduced herself as Dulcie, chatters away merrily with a lilting accent and a high-pitched voice all throughout the drive to Bond Street. I try my best to keep up with her, answering as many of her questions as possible. No, I’ve never shopped here before. No, I’ve never attended a Gala. Yes, I’m very excited. Yes, I'm so grateful that Ms Maximoff is taking such good care of me.

She’s enraptured with the idea of this being my debut to high society, and she positively gushes about all the amazing people I’ll be meeting. ‘’Just THINK about the fantastic connections you’re going to build. You'll be set for life!" Personally, I don't really fancy meeting so many people all at once, the thought unsettles me. More than once I've found myself lying awake at night, worrying about the event. I wasn't made for this, I found that much out during my media training. 

It was like trying to learn how to be a human being all over again. Pepper taught me how to smile, how to walk, how to sit in my dress. There is a special way to do absolutely everything, from eating and drinking, to dancing, to smiling. It made my head spin with worry and insecurities about what everyone will think of me. Most of all, I worry about what will happen if I make a mistake and embarrass Wanda in front of all her high class friends. 

***

If I thought the car ride was bad, the store is worse, much worse. 

I’m wearing my regular day clothes, simple dress trousers combined with a deep red turtleneck jumper. It's my daily uniform at this point, these clothes are comfortable and still somewhat pretty, but I can tell right away that I made a big mistake by not dressing up more. 

The employees of the high-end store all turn their heads when we walk in, greeting us in soft voices to fit the quiet atmosphere. One of the employees approaches us, addressing my companion, pointedly not making eye contact with me.

‘’What can I help you with, miss?’’ 

‘’We have an appointment for 10:30, under the name Maximoff? I’m sorry for running a bit late, traffic was ghastly.’’ A young man in a crisp suit rifles through a book behind the counter, scanning the list and confirming that we do indeed have an appointment. 

‘’Wonderful.’’ The woman says with an unnaturally wide smile. ‘’What’s the occasion?’’ She still isn’t looking at me, and I’m starting to get annoyed by her only addressing Dulcie. ‘’It’s for a gala.’’ I say, leaning purposefully into her eyeline. ‘’For the charity fundraiser at the new theatre that’s being opened on Friday.’’ The woman doesn’t drop her eerily wide smile, but I watch as her eyes scan me from top to bottom, a certain coolness evident there that I hadn’t seen before.

‘’Do you have anything in mind?’’ 

‘’Yes.’’ Dulcie says, her own voice chilly now too. ‘’My client-’’ she stresses the word and gives the woman a pointed glare. ‘’Would like an A-line gown, floor length, maybe some tulle. I personally think silk would be the right way to go, but I’m only here to give advice.’’ She says, waving her hands dismissively. The employee’s smile falters just the slightest bit, before she recovers again, and finally turns to address me. ‘’Let’s see what we can find for you.’’

The woman summons two minions, a short older man and a young girl with impossibly blonde hair. The two of them give me the up and down, before exchanging amused looks. I want to leave, tell Dulcie to go somewhere else, but I am far too uncomfortable to bring it up. When I’m shown into a dressing room, I can hear the workers just outside the thin wooden door.

‘’Those SHOES. I’m telling you I’ve never seen something like this in the store, Michael won’t be pleased, imagine if a high profile client were to walk in and see her here looking like that.’’ The voice belongs to the first woman who approached us, her accent heavy and lilting. ‘’I said exactly the same thing-’’ The man interjects. ‘’I don’t know what she’s doing here, under the Maximoff name, too.’’ 

‘’Do you think she works at that company?’’ This voice is quiet and somewhat anxious sounding, I guess it’s the blonde girl speaking. The two others burst out into laughter. ‘’God knows.’’ Replies the woman. The man responds with some kind of theory about how I just used the Maximoff name to get an appointment and that I’m just here to try on dresses without buying anything. This all becomes too much for me and, blinking back tears, I open the door, alerting them to my presence and forcing them into silence. 

***

Since the event is on Friday, and it’s Wednesday now, we are limited to whatever is available straight from the rack. Dulcie throws dress after dress at me, and I become increasingly bad-tempered and more sweaty as the minutes go by. None of the options has even been a contender so far, all of them fit me strangely or are way off the mark with the colour scheme. As each dress goes by, and I stare at myself in the mirror, underneath the aggressive lighting, I feel the urge more and more to just burst into tears. With the stares and whispered comments of the workers, the ill-fitting dresses and the horrid lighting, showcasing my every flaw, I feel as though I might crack any second now.

Dulcie too is getting frustrated by the employees. ‘’This cow’s trying to sell me last season's backlog, I cannot believe my eyes.’’ I’m not entirely sure why this is a bad thing, but going off of how scandalized she looks, I gather that it’s quite serious. ‘’You just pop on your robe and sit down for a bit, I’m going out to find the manager.’’ Honestly, I’m just glad to have a second to sit down after my mania inducing stint in the fitting room, so I don’t even bother to stop her.

I pull out my phone to check how much time has passed, when I see that Wanda has sent me a text.

Dulcie is nowhere to be seen, and no employee has come by in several long minutes. So, I settle for anxiously pacing the fitting room hallway, like a caged animal I move from wall to wall, deliberately avoiding my own reflection in the mirror. I keep this up for over 10 minutes, pacing and pacing, trying to set my mind at ease, when I hear some commotion out in the store. 

I pop my head around the corner of the hallway, and to my total astonishment, I see Wanda marching straight at me, a murderous look in her eye. When she sees me, and spots the anxious look in my eyes, however, her gaze softens. 

‘’Hey there, dove.’’ She says, her voice soft and warm. She reaches out a hand to cup my cheek for just a second, her rings cold against my skin. ‘’You okay?’’ 

‘’Better now that you’re here.’’ I admit. ‘’It’s been shit, I think Dulcie-’’ 

‘’I sent Dulcie home, I told Pepper you didn’t need a stylist, but you know what she’s like. This wouldn’t have happened if you could’ve just gone where you’re comfortable.’’ She sighs heavily and drops her handbag on the floor with a clang. She whips off her coat and drapes it over one of the armchairs outside the fitting rooms. ‘’I told those three to take a hike-’’ She says, pointing with her thumb over her shoulder. ‘’Michael will be helping us, and giving you some proper garments to try on.’’

I stand somewhat uncomfortably in the harshly lit room, very aware of my frazzled appearance and the stupid robe I’m wearing. ‘’You didn’t have to come all this way, I’m sorry…’’ 

‘’Hey-’’ She says, dipping her head to search for my eyes. ‘’I just want to make sure you find something nice, okay? And I’m not letting anyone disrespect my girl.’’ 

My girl.

I look at her with wide eyes, suddenly conscious of how public this place is and how loudly we’ve been talking. Is this an act? Preparation for the gala? Is she trying to get rumours started? Or is this real, did she come to my rescue because she wanted to help me, did she call me hers because she wants it to be true? I want to ask her, and I get as far as opening my mouth, the question bubbling in my throat, when a man, who I assume to be Michael, walks around the corner, his arms full of burgundy dresses.

***

Michael, as it turns out, is the manager of this establishment, and a casual acquaintance of Wanda’s. He delivers me several stunning gowns, each in precisely the right colour to match Wanda’s suit. Under her watchful eye, I showcase each and every dress. 

They're all very pretty, but nothing really jumps out at me. Until I get my hands on the eighth dress. I had wanted tulle, and most of the dresses are made of just that, but this one is made from soft silk that runs through my fingers like water. 

This is the one, I know it before it's even over my hips, it just feels right instantly. The top half is a bit too large for me, so Michael helps me clip it back to showcase how it would look once tailored to fit me. The fabric is cool against my skin and slippery in my fingers, it falls beautifully, hugs me tightly where it should. The only issue is the slit, it goes all the way up my right thigh, so high that it could almost be considered scandalous. Still, for the first time today I feel pretty, and I gaze at myself in the mirror for a few moments, taking in the dress from every angle.

When I step out of the fitting room, Wanda’s eyebrows shoot up. Her gaze is fixed on me so intently, I feel as though she might burn a hole straight through my skin. She tilts her head, a mischievous grin on her painted lips. ‘’Do you like it, honey?’’

I make eye contact with her through the mirror, my palms sweaty at the intensity of her stare. ‘’I do! I love it- it’s just the slit…’’ I put my leg forward, showcasing the amount of skin revealed by it. Wanda leans back in her chair, her grin widening impossibly. 

‘’How does it make you feel?’’ 

I’m a bit taken aback by the question, and I have to think about it for a few seconds. ‘’I- I feel... I don’t know.’’ I laugh nervously. ‘’It feels wrong to say.’’

‘’Go on!’’ Wanda encourages. ‘’It’s just me.’’ In the distance, I hear Michael speaking, and I know she’s right. ‘’I feel pretty." I admit sheepishly. " And… I feel kind of hot. Like a bond girl or a femme fatale.’’ 

Wanda nods approvingly, her smirk never leaving her lips. ‘’You're not wrong there." She says cheekily, and I feel my face burn hot. "That’s the one then, let’s buy it.’’ I hold up my hands in protest. ‘’Hold on, but the slit, I don’t know… What will people say? I don’t want creeps saying inappropriate things to me all night.’’

Her gaze hardens and her smile falters at this, but she shakes her head. ‘’Let’s buy it.’’ She says again, her satisfied smirk returning in full force. She stands up, closing the distance between us. ‘’Don’t worry about what anyone says to you, baby.’’ She brushes her knuckles over my cheek affectionately. ‘’I can fight.’’

***

The car smells like new leather and air freshener. I feel like I’m going to vomit. 

Wanda gives my hand three little squeezes, trying to reassure me, reminding me that she’s here with me. The partition is closed, and I can see her reflected in the polished glass. She looks like a dream, all swagger and confidence in her gorgeous velvet suit. Every hair is in the right place, and she looks ready to take over the world, or destroy it, whichever she fancies most. 

I myself spent two hours in hair and makeup, all the while listening to Pepper drilling me on the final titbits that she didn’t manage to cover in my media training. At one point, three people were working on me all at once. Two managing my hair, wrestling my thick waves into an elegant braided updo. The other adding liberal amounts of shimmery powder to my chest and arms, making me glitter and shine in the light. 

The pins in my hair still hurt a bit, but I have decided that the final product is worth a bit of discomfort. In fact, I would deal with twice the amount of discomfort if it were possible for me to relive the moment Wanda saw the completed look for the first time. 

When I walked down the stairs, treading carefully in my high heels, she looked up at me with a wondrous expression, her eyes wide, a disbelieving smile on her face. Her gaze lingered on my exposed thigh, the fabric uncovering the skin there as I took step after careful step. Once I’d made my way down the steps, she extended a hand out to me, making me twirl for her as Pepper rolled her eyes in the corner. 

At that moment, I had felt like nothing could ruin this evening for me, not even Pepper’s snark or the looming threat of the paparazzi could spoil my mood. Not when Wanda was leading me to the car on her arm, leaning in to whisper to me that I look beautiful tonight. Now, however, as I can see the bright camera flashes in the distance, already locked in on our car, I feel nauseous and rather faint. I wish we were back home and in bed instead.

***

We are late, purposely so. The red carpet is empty, our personal runway. The car stops right at the edge of the carpet, photographers swarming around it like a hoard of angry hornets. Their camera’s clicking and flashing, too loud and much too bright. Wanda gets out first and everyone is calling her name, first and last, begging for her to look their way. But her eyes are on me, her hand is in mine, and she pulls me to my feet, helping me out of the car. 

They are looking at me, too, because I am with her. Every lens zoomed in and focussed on our clasped hands. Mine are sweating, I want to apologize to Wanda for it, but I know I won’t be able to make myself heard over the din of voices. The rapid fire clicking of the camera’s buzzes all around us. This red carpet feels like it's miles and miles long. From every direction, people are shouting at us. 

‘’Look this way, Wanda.’’

‘’Who did you bring tonight?’’

‘’Over here lady, smile for us.’’

‘’Wanda, who are you wearing?’’

‘’Is she your date?’’

‘’C’mon pretty girl, tell us your name.’’

‘’Wanda, do you have any comments on your relationship with Natasha Romanoff?’’

I remember Pepper’s instructions well. Don’t engage, don’t pose, don’t talk. I didn’t think that this would be an issue at all, seeing as the last thing I want right now is to strike up a conversation when I have four dozen camera lenses pointed at me. But this last comment makes me swivel my head around, staring right at the reporter who screamed the question. She meets my gaze, her eyes shining triumphantly, the camera’s clicking impossibly faster. 

What did she mean by does Wanda have any comments? What relationship was she talking about, and who the hell is Natasha Romanoff? I vaguely recognize the name, a hazy blur of a picture coming to mind. I know I saw her in Pepper’s stack of papers, but I can't remember anything about her. Some part of me wants to stop and question the woman, to ask her what she meant. An uneasy feeling settles in my stomach, one of dread that makes my mouth taste bitter. 

A squeeze from Wanda’s hand in my own brings me back to the present. I look up to find us standing at the front entrance, the doors to the entryway are closed now, but I can tell that an hour or so ago there would have been two attendants on either side, ushering people in as they arrived. I stretch out a hand for the massive door handle, but Wanda gets there first, pulling open the gargantuan doors, stepping to the side and bowing me in. ‘’Ladies first.’’ 

The entrance hall is mostly empty, only a smattering of people remain, the sound of their voices echoing in the high-ceilinged room. They all turn and look when we step into the room, and I spot one of the women leaning over to whisper something into her neighbour’s ear. 

I’m grateful for Wanda’s presence, for her steady hand on her back as she guides us to the cloakroom, where two bored looking teenagers take our coats. As they scurry off to find spots for our coats in the already packed racks, Wanda leans over to speak to me in a hushed voice. ‘’Are you okay, dove? You’re looking pale.’’ In truth, I still feel sick from the car ride, and the photographers, and the question that still gnaws at my insides. ‘’I’m okay, just worried we might miss the start of the play, that’s all.’’ 

I can tell that she doesn’t believe me, and it looks like she might say something,  but the teenagers are back now and one of them hands Wanda two slips of paper with fat numbers printed on them. ‘’The play is about to start, miss, they’re about to close the doors, so you might want to hurry.’’ 

At that moment, a young attendant in a crisp uniform hurries over to us, a stack of papers in his hands. I recognize the little pictures and realize he’s holding the guest list open to the page that holds mine and Wanda’s photos. ‘’Miss Maximoff?’’ He asks, in a somewhat harassed manner. ‘’Ma’am the play is about to start, please allow me to escort you and the young lady to your seats.’’

Quickly, we follow him up the ornate stairs and I marvel at the shining wood. The banister consists of many carvings, each depicting different scenes, I spot birds and flowers, nymphs and satyrs, each more beautiful than the last. I point them out to Wanda as we walk, and she smiles at my delight when I find a little carved figure of Bacchus. 

Finally, we arrive at the theatre, positioned at the very top of the stairs. The attendant leads us through a black hallway, the path marked by tiny lights on the floor, showing us where to walk. He locates our box with ease and shows us in. His formal manner is slightly unsettling to me, but it doesn’t seem to bother Wanda.

Just as the door closes behind the attendant, and we take our seats, the curtains are drawn and Iago and Roderigo take the stage. 

‘’Tush! Never tell me. I take it much unkindly

That thou, Iago, who hast had my purse

As if the strings were thine, shouldst know of this’’ 

***

Halfway through the first act, Wanda’s hand finds the exposed skin of my thigh, and she settles her hand there, swiping her thumb up and down lazily. It takes an extraordinary amount of willpower to keep myself focused on the play. 

A few times I catch her looking at me from the corner of my eyes. The first handful of times this happens, I'm too shy to say anything about it. But the near darkness of the theatre and the solitude of our box emboldens me. The next time I feel her eyes on me, I turn my head. I can just make out a smug little smile on her lips through the dim lighting. 

"What are you thinking about?" I whisper to her. Her smile widens, and she leans in to whisper into my ear, her hair tickles my neck and threatens to get caught in my earring. "I'm thinking about how pretty you are, and how you're all mine for the night." 

My heart threatens to bounce right out of my mouth at this. My face is burning with the strength of a coal fire and I struggle to form a coherent thought, let alone a sentence. Wanda chuckles low in her throat and softly enough so that no one will hear. She settles the knuckle of her pointer finger under my chin, turning my head back to the stage and returning her hand to its previous position on my thigh. 

When the ending arrives and Desdemona’s tragic death occurs, it has me weeping quietly into Wanda’s shoulder, her soothing fingers tracing patterns on my back. She shushes me quietly, laying her head down on my own. I watch the ending unfold from there, peeking over the edge of the box as Othello, faced with the inevitability of his trial, takes his own life. 

Once the lights are turned on and the actors have all taken their bows, I chatter excitedly with Wanda about the play, all the worries of the previous hours forgotten. She smiles heartily at my enthusiasm, and she offers up her arm for me to take, as we leave the little bubble of our box to head down to the reception.

Wanda keeps me engaged in a conversation about one of the actresses and how she’s to star in an upcoming TV show. I know she’s doing this to distract me from the swarm of people around us. Their eyes burn white-hot into my skin, but somehow I find it very hard to care after our hour of solitude in the box. I had my opportunity to calm down, to adjust after the nerve-wracking experience with the cameras. Wanda’s calming presence has worked wonders on me, and I find myself mostly indifferent to the many stares and whispers going on behind my back. It’s hard to care when I’m walking arm in arm with Wanda Maximoff. 

Wanda guides us down all the way down the stairs and into the reception hall, which is already crowded with people. Recalling Pepper’s instructions, we begin to slowly move through the room in a clockwise fashion. Every now and then people call out to Wanda, and we stop for a chat. 

Her arm is slung casually around me, pulling me close by my waist. I watch the eyes of the people we talk to, I watch them wander down to where her fingers rest comfortably. I watch as they exchange glances, eyebrows raised, trying to hide their smiles. Wanda always waits for them to ask, almost as if watching them fumble with their words as they try to find a polite way to ask, amuses her. Once they do inquire about us being so close, she introduces me loudly and proudly as her girlfriend, and I feel myself melt a little bit every single time, even if it's only a ruse. 

We move from group to group, talking about anything and everything, trying hard to steer every conversation away from the topic of our relationship. Still, Wanda likes to goad the masses. She gives me little winks every now and again, or lets her eyes linger on me in a way that makes my face and neck flush. 

I can tell that she's enjoying herself, and I try to enjoy it all too, in spite of my anxieties. I work hard to come across as polite, well-educated and worthy of being the future Mrs Maximoff. I laugh at unfunny jokes, and I lose myself in Wanda’s lingering touches and sweet smiles. 

Once, a rather drunk man tries to hug me for a little too long. And Wanda pulls me close to her, holding my waist tightly, possessively. "I'd be careful if I were you, Stark." She says with a smile that isn't quite friendly. "It'd be awfully rude of me to break a man's jaw at a charity event." 

The man opens his mouth indignantly, but he's interrupted by a louder voice, drowning him out. "Tony doesn't know how to take no for an answer, Wanda, it's not your fault." 

I turn around to see that Pepper has sauntered over, looking extremely pretty in a white dress. Kate stands next to her, dressed in a black suit and a tie, pulling it off better than most men here. Stupidly, I wonder where her leash is, when I remember that we're in public, and they obviously wouldn't do that here. 

After a few harsh words are exchanged, and some colourful language used on both sides, Tony Stark slinks off with his tail tucked between his legs. 

"Christ almighty." Pepper says, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Tell me what I ever saw in that narcissistic excuse for a human being." 

"His fat bank balance, probably." Wanda says dryly, making me snort a bit too loudly. 

Kate frowns, and rubs her hand soothingly on Pepper's back. "He's not worth your time, or your anger." She says in a quiet voice, and I'm surprised to hear her speak. I've seen her several times in the days since our first meeting, and she hasn't spoken very much at all. "And he's a stupid jerk face." She adds, almost as an afterthought. It makes Pepper chuckle, and she leans over to kiss Kate’s forehead. "It's a good thing I chose you instead, bunny." 

I'm struck for the first time with how these two actually make sense together. I have spent a considerable amount of time puzzling over Pepper and Kate’s relationship. Pepper is an insane control freak, who'd single-handedly run the entire world if we all let her. So it's no surprise to me that she gets off on controlling every aspect of Kate’s life. But now I've witnessed this interaction, I feel like there's much more to them than just that. It's as if Kate balances out Pepper in the perfect way. She's reserved where Pepper is abrasive, rash where Pepper is collected. She cracks jokes when Pepper looks like she's about to lose it, and she always looks at her like she's ready to give her the world.

I listen to the pair of them thoroughly abusing Tony Stark, with Wanda chiming in on occasion, and Pepper seems to cheer up after a while. When Wanda adds in some comforting words about Pepper carrying the company on her back and I add that we'd all be lost without her, she seems well enough to let Kate lead her to the dance floor. 

"Do you want to dance too?" I ask Wanda, a little shyly. Truth be told, I can't dance to save my life. But I'm watching the couples on the dance floor, all of them pressed tightly together, and I want an excuse to be that close to Wanda. The urge to feel her hands on the exposed skin on my back, her body flush against mine, is beyond overwhelming. 

She smiles at me sweetly, watching the dancing couples too. "Absolutely, what's a party without dancing?" She says, shaking her shoulders at me, her nose scrunched up in laughter. "I'm just going to find the bathroom real quick. Why don't you get us some drinks at the bar? Here-" She fishes in her suit pockets for her credit card. "Take my card. I'll have a hangman's blood, and you can order whatever you like, honey." 

Wanda heads off to the bathroom, whilst I weave my way through the crowd, towards the bar. I've managed to avoid the first wave of people, as we've spent our time talking instead of drinking. So the bar is mercifully quiet. I order Wanda’s drink and hesitate for a few seconds on my own order. Wanda’s choice doesn't sound very appealing, and I don't really know that many drinks off the top of my head. I don't drink much at all, so I feel slightly lost. What should I say? "A Martini, shaken, not stirred?" When the barman finishes Wanda’s drink and asks me if I need anything else, I panic, and order the first thing that comes to mind. 

"A vodka cranberry please." 

It's not a great choice, I can tell by the way the barman looks at me, but I think it's perfectly decent. It'll get me drunk just as quickly as anything else he can offer me. Once the drinks are done, I look around for Wanda, but she's still nowhere to be seen, so I take a seat at one of the vacant barstools. 

Only a few seconds go by, when I hear a voice call out behind me. ‘’What’s a pretty girl like you doing here all by herself?’’ 

I whip my head around, to face the person who’s speaking. The voice belongs to a woman with short blonde hair, who I recognize from Pepper’s folder as Carol Danvers. I smile glibly at her. ‘’I’m not alone.’’ 

Carol makes a show of looking at the empty space around us, and the vacant barstool next to mine. ‘’I don’t see anyone here right now, doll.’’ I have to fight very hard not to roll my eyes. I know Carol Danvers is an important woman, I’m sure there was something about her in the massive stack of papers that Pepper gave me, I just can’t quite put my finger on what it was. 

‘’My-’’ I hesitate for a fraction of a second, wondering if I should just call her my date, or go the whole way. ‘’my girlfriend is just in the bathroom, she’ll be back soon.’’ Carol hums thoughtfully, leaning over the bar to order herself a Bourbon Sour. ‘’That’s a shame, you’d look very pretty on my arm.’’ 

I can’t hold back a slight scoff at this, and I turn my head, shaking it as I do so. ‘’I think I look prettier on my girlfriend’s arm.’’ I mean it, too. I’m flattered, and if this had happened before Wanda asked me to do this crazy thing with her, I might have gone along with it. Now, however, I don’t want anyone else’s attention. Everything I do, I do for her.

To my surprise, Carol downs her drink in one go. I’m not much of a drinker, but I’m quite sure you’re not supposed to just down a glass of whiskey. She doesn’t seem any worse for wear, however, quite the opposite. Once she has set down her glass, she leans over to drape her arm around my shoulders. ‘’C’mon sugar, I’m sure your little girlfriend won’t mind, how about a dance?’’

‘’How about you get your hands off my girlfriend, Danvers.’’

Wanda’s voice is quiet. She appears calm, cool, and collected. But I can tell from her eyes that she’s seething, a quiet fury burning in her irises. I’m forcibly reminded of the day I met Wanda, or Ms Maximoff, as I used to call her then. I remember how I was marched into her office just as she was telling an employee to pack his things and leave the premises. The details are hazy now, but I remember someone from HR telling me how he had been harassing his co-workers for days. She had been quiet too, then. But her eyes were scathing, and I remember wondering how controlled her anger must be, to be so angry you are calm. 

She’s giving Carol the same look now, as she positions herself between the pair of us, forcing the other woman to back away and laying a protective hand on my shoulder. 

Carol takes a step back, and throws up her hands defensively. ‘’Wow, cool it, Maximoff. I was just having some fun.’’ 

‘’I don’t think it’s very funny to touch what doesn’t belong to you.’’ 

‘’Jesus. Go take a hike, will you? She doesn’t belong to you either.’’ 

Wanda’s cool hand rests heavily on my shoulder, still a little damp from the bathroom sink. ‘’She does, actually. And I’ll thank you kindly if you fuck off and leave us alone.’’ Carol’s eyebrows shoot up into her hairline, she’s laughing and pointing between the pair of us like she can’t believe her eyes. ‘’You’re serious?’’ Wanda doesn’t respond, she merely looks at her with a quiet contempt.‘’Last I heard, Romanoff was trying to get you into bed. How the hell did you fumble that?’’ 

My reaction is instantaneous. It’s as if a heavy brick has sunk down into the pit of my stomach. All my previous uneasiness returns in full force, and I feel myself break out into a sweat. I angle my head up to look at Wanda, searching for a sign of reassurance in her face. I want her to tell me this is a joke, that she doesn’t know this woman at all. Some part of me feels intensely guilty, because who am I to feel this way? It’s not like I own Wanda, she’s a free woman who can do what she likes. Still, the thought of Wanda with another woman makes me want to curl up and die. I can’t bear it. 

As I’m looking up at her, I see her flinch at the mention of this name, her eyes flickering to mine for the briefest of seconds before returning to Carol. ‘’Speaking of fumbling, how is the divorce coming along?’’ Carol’s face goes white with anger, and she’s on the verge of some kind of outburst, no doubt, when we are interrupted by the arrival of a large party of people. Someone pulls Carol away by her hand, leading her to the dance floor, where the DJ has begun playing the cha-cha slide. Another person throws her arms around me with a squeal, obscuring my vision with her blonde hair.

‘’Alright Sharon, that’s enough, let her breathe.’’ I recognize this voice as belonging to Phil Coulson. I used to work closely with both him and Sharon, but I haven’t seen either of them in weeks. ‘’I’m sorry!’’ Sharon says breathlessly as she lets go of me. ���’I missed you! Where the hell have you been, you just disappeared, and we thought you- Ouch, Phil!’’ 

Poor Phil had tried subtly elbowing Sharon in her side, presumably to get her to shut up. Sharon, a little drunk, doesn’t have much left in her for subtlety. ‘’Anyway,’’ She continues, rubbing her side and ignoring Phil’s alarmed facial expressions. ‘’We thought you’d lost it, you know with the whole burn-out thing, we almost assumed the worst. I tell you, I nearly broke down Pepper’s office door to get her to tell me what happened to you, but she wouldn’t let up, and you know how she gets, and then I didn’t have your phone-’’ 

‘’Wow, wow, wow. Okay hold on, slow down.’’ I have to raise my voice to be heard over the noisy crowd and the loud music. ‘’What are you talking about? I’m not burnt out.’’ For the first time since her arrival, Sharon falls quiet, exchanging an anxious look with Phil. ‘’It’s okay to go through things like this.’’ He says in a gentle tone. ‘’We know you’ve been working yourself to the bone for years. The last time I saw you, you looked half dead, we were all really worried about you.’’ I stare at him blankly, breathing hard through my nose, trying to keep the nausea at bay. I can’t do this right now, I don’t want to think about it all. 

It feels to me like there is a massive divide in my life, one part separated from the rest by a gargantuan concrete wall. There is life before Wanda, and life after her. The difference is night and day. There are the days of  long nights, early mornings, no time for sleep, no time for tears. And then there are the days of endless time, of endless familiarity. Cuddles in bed, watching TV-shows with her hand under my jumper. Peace, and quiet and gentle affection. My past, however recent, is like a festering wound. I don’t want to peel back the bandage to inspect the damage. 

So, I don’t. I shake my head at my colleagues, forcing an easy smile onto my face. ‘’Don’t be silly, I was just a bit tired. I’m with Wanda now, so I don’t have to work anymore. I’m taking a break for the time being.’’ It’s a bit of a low blow, but I knew that mentioning Wanda would divert their attention somewhere else. Sharon’s eyes are almost bulging out of her head, and Phil’s mouth hangs open so widely that it looks like his jaw might fall off. 

‘’With Wanda. WITH? As in, romantically?’’

This does make me chuckle slightly, and I nod my head, turning to find Wanda. I intend to pull her by the hand, to make a show of this, like we’ve been doing all night so far. But as I reach for her, I find nothing but empty air. I turn my head, looking for her amongst the group of people surrounding me. 

I find her, at the very edge of the group. Her velvet suit shines in the overhead lights of the bar. Her head is thrown back in laughter, eyes tight shut. Her hand rests on the shoulder of another woman. One with short red hair and a wicked smile painted in red on her lips. Natasha Romanoff. 

━━━━━━━━━ ✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯ ━━━━━━━━━

Taglist:

@swirlofsnow @emeraldevan @ichala @romeo-the-cactus @lainjupi @lissaaaa145 @princessprudy @333hhm @im-my-hope @inluvwithfictionalwomen @imthenatynat @imnotawitch @gay-trash-in-a-paperbag @messuhp @loudsharkface @ripofflizzie @alwaysbimyself

Next chapter

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

Love On-Set (Pt. 01 of 10)

Pairing: Dacre Montgomery X Reader

Word count: 3K

Next part (02) ->

Summary: You knew acting on Stranger Things season 3 would be a challenge, and you also knew, from the start, you'd have to work closely with Dacre Montgomery. But is wasn't a big deal for you, since this is your job and you're determined to act professionally. You had it all figured out, or so you thought, until the moment you were out face to face with Dacre. Then, this job became a lot harder than it was supposed to be, since you can't seem to focus whenever you're around Dacre. And you'll have to be around him a lot until the end of production.

{Dacre Montgomery Masterlist}

{Stranger Things Masterlist}

×

First Sight

The minivan stops right before entering the set as the driver speaks with one of the security guards. A huge structure was built around the area, and if it wasn't for the strong lights, you'd be in complete darkness. It's late at night, but yet, there are some journalists and a lot of cameras. They immediately surround the car, trying to see who's inside.

“Vicki, do you think I should go out and talk to them?” You decide to ask her first, because you're not as known as the other actors, and you're not sure if they'd want to talk to you.

“Sure. But don't take long.” She nods, touching the drive's shoulder and telling him to wait.

Taking a deep breath, you push the door open, a smile on your face as the cameras quickly find you. Running a hand through your hair, to make sure it's not messed up, you take in all the microphones and smartphones pointed at your face.

“(Y/N), could you answer some questions?” A short, dark-haired guy asks, a camera flashing.

“It depends on the question, but I'll try my best.” This seems to please them, and you wonder if the others couldn't afford a few minutes.

“Your posted on your Instagram account that you were a Stranger Things fan from season one.” A woman asks. “How was the transition from being a fan to acting on the show?”

“It was fantastic.” The first season of the show was still driving people crazy when you got the call for an audition for the role of Amy Whitehall, for seasons two and three. Vicky, you have no idea how, got in touch with some friends when she heard they were searching of someone with physical traits similar to yours. Thankfully, the audition went well and you got the job. “It's an honor to be part of this masterpiece. The only bad part is that now I have some spoilers.”

“Your character's scene by the end of season two had any interaction with Billy Hargrove, Hawking's bad boy. Does that mean she'll be in any kind of relationship with him?”

For that, you have to think, careful not to say anything that will expose the plot.

People are very interested in Billy, not sure exactly where the character will go from now on, after his introduction on season two. He stole many hearts, for love or hate, dividing opinions. And your character had a short appearance by very end of the last episode, shown in an interaction with him. On her way to the ball, to help Nancy, Billy almost runs her over with his car, after dropping his sister. They had a small dialogue, him asking her to get out of the way and her telling him to look where he was going. Then a pause, a little bit of tension, and that was it.

“I'm not allowed to answer that, but Amy's scene was just an introduction. Her character will be around throughout season three.” Offering another smile, you turn around, giving attention to someone else.

“What will be a new threat? The season finale raised a lot of questions about–”

“Excuse me, excuse me.” Vicky pokes her head out, a hand raised. “I'm sorry, but we have to get going.”

“Aright.” You mumble. “Thank you, guys. Bye.” Politely, you wave at the reporters before going back into the van.

You're soon moving again, leaving the entrance behind and driving in darkness for some minutes before more lights come into your sight until they're all around you. The set was built around a piece of the road, where you already shot earlier this week.

“C'mon, (Y/N). Hair and make-up." Vicky urgers, stepping out of the van with you.

You easily find your way around the set, chatting with people as they do your hair and put the makeup on. There will be a tiny cut above your left eyebrow, and Ron, the guy who always take care of the fake wounds around here, takes only fifteen minutes to get it done. Once you're ready, Vicky guides you to the filming area, and you sit on your chair a few feet away, under one of the many huge tents scattered around the place.

“Hi.” Someone says, and you abruptly look up from your phone, finding your co-star. The only co-star of the day, Dacre. He's already full Billy, with the mullet wig and the leather jacket. “I didn't mean to startle you. Just thought I'd come to say hello before the scene.”

You haven't properly spoken to Dacre. The single scene you made was quick, one of the last, and the set was a mess. So you didn't have the chance to talk, and ever since, you haven't crossed paths with him. But today's scene is all about your characters. Amy's first appearance on season three will have her running from something in the woods, the Mind Flayer, and she crashes her car on Billy's, while he's on the way to meet Mrs. Wheeler. That's it for today, their first meeting.

“Hi.” Smiling back, you shake his hand. “I'm (Y/N).” You decide to remind him.

“I know.” He simply says. “Do you want to go over the lines before the real thing?”

He has such a nice voice, it's impressive. You've watched some of his movies, and he's really good. It's not like you haven't acted before, but nothing so important or famous as Stranger Things. You can't help but be a little nervous. “Sure.” Blocking your phone, you stand up, leaving it on your seat.

“Alright. Let's–”

“(Y/N)! Dacre! It's time, c'mon!” The director calls, cutting you off.

“Guess we'll go straight to the real thing,” Dacre says as you start making your way to where the cars are positioned.

Billy's Camaro and Amy's light green Toyota are placed a few inches apart, the front part already wrecked and a light smoke coming off from under the hood.

“The mechanism will push the cars on each other and the rest you already know.” Your stylist comes to check on you one last time, making sure everything is perfect. When she steps away, you get inside the car.

A few days ago you shot Amy's way over here, driving insanely fast, running from the shadows creeping. Most of the scenes where Amy will be alone were already made since there weren't many. She will be around the others a lot, as the events are unrevealed.

Once you're in the car, you take your time to get into character, ignoring the orders being yelled outside. The lights are turned off, and the road before you is almost completely dark.

“Let's get it started, everyone!” The director shouts. “Action!”

At his command, the car jerks forward.

Letting your head fall on the wheel, you breathe fast, wide eyes acknowledging what just happened, the crash, the smoke, the other car that collided with yours. Looking over your shoulder, you imagine, you picture it coming, moving through the threes, growing closer.

“What the hell!” The voice yells as you try to make your car start again, uselessly. “You could've killed me!”

“Damn it.” Cursing under your breath, overcome by terror, you step out of the car, running around it and into the other one, which is still working, opening the passenger door and rushing inside.

“What do you think you're doing? Get the hell out of my car!” Dacre shouts at your face, in Billy's voice, a little deeper.

“There's something in the woods!” You yell, looking through the rear windshield. “It's coming!”

“Are you crazy or something?! You almost wrecked my car!” As he speaks, you imagine it once again, the tentacles coming from the sky, taking over the road behind you.

Then you grab his arm, squeezing the muscle underneath the jacket. He's in the middle of a sentence when he looks back too, immediately going silent as he's eyes meet the same inexistent thing you're seeing.

“What the–”

“Drive!” You burst out, and the car starts moving.

“Cut!” The director's voice reaches both of you and Dacre hits the brakes.

Relaxing, you let go of his arm.

“That was great, but I want another take. Ryan, turn those lights down.”

The scene is repeated three more times, with different lighting until they finally decide it's perfect. Then the whole set starts moving to the next scene, which is the sequence to what just played out. It'll be shot in a street Northeast from the road, and since it'll play out from the Camaro, you're told to stay in the car as Dacre drives there, following the other cars.

“You did well back there,” Dacre says as you move, taking a different turn from the other cars to reach your mark. The street has a few small houses on one side, which will have their lights on and some people moving inside and on their balconies, and tall threes on the other.

“You too. Hope I didn't hurt your arm, but Amy was terrified.” Shrugging your shoulders, you smile to hear his giggle.

“I noticed.” He says. “But my arm will survive.”

Looking his way, you're able to have a good look at him now. It's a little dark, but you can take in his features. Dacre makes the mullet look good, which is impressive since you absolutely hate the hairstyle. But not on him. Clearing your throat, you look away. “Make sure it will. You'll need it.”

Dacre stops by the mark, everyone apparently already on their positions. “Things are about to get tense for Billy and Amy now.”

“First fight.” You say, taking a look at your outfit to make sure nothing is out of place. “Enemies to lovers is quite a good arch.”

“I like it too.”

“(Y/N). Dacre. Are you ready?” The director asks and both of you give him a thumbs up, hands off the window. The crew with the microphones and cameras are already positioned, ready for the scene. “Alright then. Ready... Action!”

Dacre moves the car forward, just enough to fake it as he hits the breaks. “What was that?” Billy asks, annoyed for some reason Amy wouldn't know.

“I don't know.” With a hand on your hair, shaking a little, you breathe fast, terrified. “Just take me home.”

“Now I gotta drive you home too?”

“Screw you.” The sudden outburst and the disgust in his voice makes you bolt out of the car, keeping in mind not to look at the cameras following you.

“Are you going to walk?” Billy yells, but you don't look back, walking fast, crossing your arms. “Wait.”

“Screw. You.”

“Don't be an idiot.” You roll your eyes when you notice he's coming closer. Dacre grabs your arm, forcing you to turn around. “Are you really going to walk home with that... Thing out there?”

You're confused at his change of moods, pushing your arm away. “Does it look like I have a choice? You just saw that–” You gesture at the threes on the other side of the road. “–and you still couldn't bring yourself to drive a lady home. You're such a gentleman.” Raising your voice, you put the same tone of disgust in your voice that you heard in his. The cameras move a little closer, and you know why. That's when the tension starts, when Amy stands up to Billy. Stepping forward, lifting your head to try and look him in the eye, you put a single finger in his chest. “You're far worse than what people say you are.” You don't get why his eyes make you nervous. Maybe this whole thing is more than you're used to, too big of a production for you after a few years away from the cameras. As much as Dacre's face being so close makes you feel funny, you gotta keep it cool, don't let it show. You're scared, terrified of a monster in the woods.

“Cut the bullshit and let's go.” He takes your arm again, but you refuse to follow him, standing your ground.

“Let go!” You struggle a bit on his grip, noticing how you actually need to act as if it's tighter than it really is. When he turns to face you again, as you struggle, his face comes close again, his eyes filled with Billy's annoyance.

“Get your butt–” Exactly in time, a crack reaches your ears, and both you and Dacre look at the woods with wide eyes, your breaths caught in your throats, unsure of what made that noise, but not excited to find out. “Let's get out of here.”

“Yeah.” You mumble, heading back into the car.

“And cut!” The director yells as soon as you close the door shut. “That was good, but I want another take. I want the same tension you both built on season 2, only now it's stronger, you're face to face. And Dacre, work this out because people need to be convinced Billy likes someone for something else than just fool around.”

You both nod, repeating the same thumbs-up gesture. Taking a deep breath you wait for the sign and starts moving, doing pretty much the same until you're both out of the car, but this time, when Dacre pulls your arm, you act as if the pull was stronger then it actually was, letting yourself collide against his chest before stepping away. “Are you really going to walk home with that... Thing out there?”

“Does it look like I have a choice? You just saw that and you still couldn't bring yourself to drive a lady home. You're such a gentleman.” Instead of just putting a finger on his chest, you push him away with both hands, not keeping the normal distance as doing so, and letting your eyes fall on his unbuttoned shirt for a couple of seconds before raising your them again. You feel the heat on your cheeks, and you know you're blushing. Checking him out was not the intention.

Dacre's eyes meet yours, and for a second they soften before the usual annoyance comes back. You wonder if he's trying to say something, give you a hint about something he wants to do, but you have no idea what it might be. “Cut the bullshit and let's go, princess.” The weight on the last word is different, lower, meant as in insult, an irony.

“Let go!” You whisper-yell, trying to pull away, but you stop when Dacre holds the other arm, trying to drag you to the car. His stare is intense, and the cameras move a little, coming closer, and you know they're focusing on your faces. “Let go.” You repeat, much lower this time, trying to put some distance between you and him, since your bodies are way too close already.

“Get your butt–” The crack again, the stare at the woods, and the sudden change of moods. Run now, fight later. “Let's get the hell out of here.”

Nodding in agreement, you give your arms one last push, and Drace's eyes come back to you as if remembering he was still holding you, finally releasing his grip. You both run to the car and the scene is over.

Despite saying it was perfect, the director wanted two more takes. He wants proximity, touching, anger mixed with a sudden, recently discovered passion from an unexpected connection at first sight. You're happy to hear that you did achieve that, not sure if it came from your skills or the funny feeling you had in your stomach through the scene. It's weird to have someone you basically just met so close, only inches away.

When it's all done, you take off the outfit and put your clothes back on after washing the make-up away. Then you wait for Vicky, leaning against the minivan, scrolling through your Instagram feed.

“Hi again.” You see Dacre approaching through the corner of your eyes, raising your head to look at him. “Have you checked in at the hotel yet?”

“Yes, just before coming here.” All the actors are staying at the same hotel, just so it's easier to gather everyone around when needed, and be sure of the time it gets for them to get on set.

“I came in my car. I can give you a ride there if you like.” As he speaks, you see Vicky coming, talking with the director. Which you still don't know the name yet.

“I came with Vicky, my agent.” Gesturing at her, you feel embarrassed to decline, and you hope Vicky will say something to help you out as she usually does. “Right, Vi?”

“Oh, no.” Waving her hand in a fast motion, she puts a lock of her blond hair behind her ear. “Remember what I told you? Make connections, friends. Don't stick with me during the whole production.” She reaches out her hand and Dacre politely shakes it. “I'm Victoria Klein. (Y/N)'s agent and her mother's oldest friend.”

“Dacre Montgomery.” He simply says.

“You may take her to the hotel. I have some things to do and she needs to rest. Long day tomorrow.”

You just watch as Vicky sets you up as if you're not even there to make your own call. But you're too shy to say anything else, to still refuse Dacre's kindness. “Ok then. See you, Vicky.”

“Have a good night.” She says after giving you a quick hug.

Silently, you follow Dacre through the set to the parking lot. His car is among several different trucks, some of them already leaving. “Nice car.” You tell him as you get into the passenger seat.

“It's rented.” Dacre turns the ignition and the car comes to life. “I can't be without a car. What if I need to go somewhere?”

“Fair enough.”

He drives through the huge set and you fall into a comfortable silence, not sure of that to say. It would help if you could see some kind of landscape or anything at all through the window. Then you wouldn't look like an idiot with eyes glued at nothing but darkness.

“Did you stop to speak to the journalists?” Dacre asks when you reach the exit, waving at one of the guards.

“Yes. You?”

“Yeah. What did they ask?”

“Spoilers.” Shrugging your shoulders, you give him a glance, and he does the same. “About Amy's and Billy's relationship. What can be expected after their meeting in the season finale.”

A low giggle escapes his lips. “Wait until they know.”

“But they will have to wait until next year.”

“You did well back there. You actually blushed. How did you do that?” He stops at the red light, and you feel when he looks at you. Running a hand through your hair, you meet his eyes.

You weren't trying to blush. You just did. “I'm a very good actress.” Giving him a sassy smirk, you see when his lips break into a smile. It's different from Billy's smile, he doesn't act like he's trying to hide some unknown meaning behind it.

“You sure are.” The red light turns green and you start moving again. “Uhm... There will be a kissing scene, you know.” Oh. The kissing scene. You read through it, of course, you just didn't give much thought about it. “Have you ever done a kissing scene?”

“No.” The answer is quick, you don't have to think much. “In my long list of three movies, in two of them my character didn't have any romantic interests and in the other one it was platonic.” Dacre had done it, you remember from some movie, not sure which one. Your mother insisted on watching some of his movies, just so you'd ‘get to know your co-star skills’ before actually having to work with him. But it's different. It's completely different watching a character on screen and then meeting the person behind it.

“Oh, ok. I hope I won't make you feel uncomfortable.”

“Don't worry about that.” You're a professional, and that's your job. It's just a kiss anyways, and the scene won't be shot any time soon. You'll have time to get used to the idea.

“I just think that since our characters arch is connected from now on, it would be good to get to know each other. It helps a lot when the co-stars are somehow friends.”

“Of course.” He has way more experience in this than you, so whatever he says, you agree.

When you get to the hotel, Dacre leaves his car on the underground parking lot, and, despite having his room key, he insists on accompanying you to the reception to get your card. Once you're in the elevator, you rest your back against the mirror, watching the numbers as they light up.

“We should exchange numbers,” Dacre says, turning to look at you. “In case some of us need to go through the lines or work on something.” He shrugs his shoulders, the light fabric of his white shirt moving. “It's a thing among us. You'll be invited to a lot of parties like that.”

“Sure.” Taking your phone off your pocket you unlock it and hand it over to him as he does the same. Quickly, you type your number and save if on his contacts list.

“That's my stop.” He says when you reach the 14th floor. “See you tomorrow.”

“Good night.” You mumble, waving at him as the elevator door closes again.

The first thing you do when you get to your room is kick off your shoes, already undressing to hit the shower before throwing yourself on bed. It's very late and you won't have many hours of sleep. You're halfway to the bathroom when you take your phone to put on some music. But you don't recognize the object in your hand. After a moment of confusion, you realize it's Dacre's phone.

“What now?” Stopping on your tracks, you start making the way back and gathering the clothes you left on the floor, putting them on again. Since you don't know the number of his room and knocking from door to door is ridiculous, you decide to call reception and just ask. But on your way to the landline they have near the couch, Dacre's phone starts ringing. You were wondering who would it be when you read your own name on the screen.

“Oh, hi.” You're quick to pick up. “I guess you have my phone.”

“Yeah, I got lucky it didn't lock, or else I'd have to call reception asking for your room.” His voice gets a lot darker through the phone. “Would you tell me which one is it? I'm already heading to your floor.”

“1703.” Already making your way to the door, you hear the soft beep of the elevator's doors opening.

“I'm almost there.” He's still speaking when he turns the corner, getting into your sight. You hang up, a shy smile on your face. “Sorry about that.” He hands you over your phone and you give him back his.

“It's alright. We're both tired.” You expect him to just say good night and leave, but he doesn't, shifting his weight from one leg to another.

“Have you met the others yet? Natalia, Joe, Millie...?”

“No, not yet.” You've heard they are very close, and you're the new girl in set. Saying you're nervous doesn't get anywhere close.

“I'm your only friend so far then.” Dacre states. “I'll break the ice with the others, don't worry.” He smiles again, and now, under the bright lights of the hotel hall, you can see his face perfectly. His blue eyes, a lot kinder then they were earlier today when he was Billy.

“Thanks. Guess I'll see you tomorrow then... Pool scenes.”

“Pool scenes.” He repeats. “I'll leave you to sleep now. Good night, (Y/N). Again.”

“Good night, Dacre.” Standing by the door, you watch as the walks away, towards the elevators.

You're about to head inside when, just before he turns around the corner, Dacre gives you one last look, a smile coming to his lips when his eyes meet yours.

×

@baker151910 @shinydixon @dreamin-of-dacre @hanoi15 @lickmymelanin @skykittysstuff

[chidoroki]

Okay, so this is basically a follow up post to all the thoughts I had about season 2 the night before the first ep aired. You’re welcome to read it if you wish but I’ll let you know that it’s a mess and does contain manga spoilers. If you don’t wanna that’s perfectly fine, but the main thing I rambled on about was the possible episode count for season 2 and where in the story this season will end.

I’ll try to give a short version of that post now though. I was certain that we would get 24eps for the second season when it was first announced, especially due to the large gap of time in between when S1 ended and when S2 was originally going to start. I believed that a 24ep season would end at ch101, right before the two-year time skip. But then 2020 happened. Anime series got delayed and Cloverworks also has two other series premiering this January alongside TPN. So I thought another 12ep season was reasonable. Though if they wanna split up a 24ep season and give us the second cour over the summer I’d be perfectly fine with that too. The only reason why I had trouble wrapping my head around a 12ep season was.. where in the hell were they planning to end it? I had several ideas, which I mentioned in my other post with little more detail, but ch60, ch64, and ch74 were some of my guesses. Of course I would love to see Goldy Pond animated but with a 12ep season, I had my doubts. S1 adapted 37 chapters and if S2 were to at least reach ch96 then that would be the next 59 chapters, which seemed a bit much at first. Then came the issue with starting the possible next season with the time skip and eh, the idea didn’t sit well with me?

But now, after seeing the second season’s OP and first episode, I’m honestly reconsidering my original guess of ending at ch101, even if we get 12eps. Let’s start with the OP first. While it’s completely beautiful and I already love “Identity” with all my heart and soul, a couple things really stand out, some more obvious than not.

First off, Peter appears. His debut chapter is 73.

Then we get this shot of Phil, who doesn’t show up again until ch100.

Next up is Emma’s braid & hair-clips. Along with her fantastic Goldy Pond outfit, the clips first appear in ch75. However, she receives three from Sandy: blue, yellow & green. Not only is the blue clip missing, but her hair is now braided. This style didn’t appear until ch102.

Ch102 is.. post-time skip, which surprises me? I honestly never thought we would get a glimpse of that this season. Unless it’s an error perhaps? This other shot has Emma with the two clips & braided hair, but then you would think Ray would have his scarf here too, right? Neither of them look much older either.. maybe the anime just decided to go with two clips instead of three? I dunno.

But then you have Anna’s hair which is significantly longer here... which I’m pretty sure isn’t until post-time skip? I doubt it grew that long in between the events of Goldy Pond and the Cuvitidala search, since it was only what..5? 6 months? I tried to spot her during the ch102 flashbacks but didn’t see her, so pretty sure this is post.

And then we also see Yvette wearing her goggles, which also shows up post-time skip. Well, she actually obtains them mid-time skip, because there’s flashbacks of her with them in ch102, but also one that shows her without them that happens around July/August 2046.

I’m not trying to say that just because the OP shows us some future scenes/people/changes that we’ll actually reach that far this season. It would be nice, sure, but they could just be teasing us too. I know this is a minor detail and it shouldn’t prove much of anything, but they did give us real small cameos of Michelle & Olivia in the first ending, “Zettai Zetsumei,” and yet we didn’t see them in the flashback in s1ep10. 

So now I’m still on the fence a little bit. I mentioned before that I would love for Cloverworks to expand on the Cuvitidala search during the two year time skip, but would that work better at the very end of a season or at the start of one? Who knows.

Speaking of seasons, the first episode of this one? Can you believe we’re already at ch45? I knew all the action would go by at an alarming fast pace, compared to the dialogue heavy S1, but damn. And that was with some of the added anime scenes! Granted, they also heavily changed the snakes of alvapinera and took out Isabella’s scene from ch38 completely but.. yeah. Although, I’m seriously hoping they include her scene at some point in the future? Because how could you forget this wonderful woman? I’m grateful they gave us that quick glimpse of her in the OP (with her hair down still! so i thank the anime staff for that at least!) but come on.. I was really looking forward to seeing her again, darn it.

One thing I’m sure about is that we’re reaching shelter B06-32 and seeing our favorite father figure because, hello.. the shelter jackets!

Speaking of the geezer, I was also actively looking for him throughout the OP, but had no such luck. I saw some people think he appears in the above mentioned screenshot, I think? but I counted 15 heads, so I believe it’s just the GF escapees here. Why everyone else is wearing them aside from only Emma & Ray.. I have no clue, but they all look nice!

Also, that screenshot got me thinking (as if i didn’t just do a whole bunch of that again already) more about Goldy Pond at the OP itself. While the opening sequence didn’t currently give us any large hints that arc will happen anytime soon, I could see Cloverworks updating it to incorporate the many characters that have yet to make an appearance. I think these two shots could easily be changed by replacing the escapees with the GP Resistance and showing the poachers instead of the wild demons.

Not only there, but any other group shot could work out too. Of course “Identity” would stick around as the song (because it’s an absolute banger) since I don’t see any point in having it last less than 12eps? Yes I know, S1 switched up the ending songs and ���Lamp” only showed up for 3eps, but shhh.

Anyways, that’s enough out of me. (also r.i.p to all the extra pages i hoped would get animated. no such luck so far because the anime seems to be flying by like hayato.)

[somedrunkpirate]

what we lack in words  (Ineffable Husbands Ficlet)

Read the whole thing on ao3 here!

Teaser:

Crowley sways his way to the front door, the ringing of the bell piercing through his head like a particularly persistent woodpecker. 

The delivery should have been here an hour ago, and Crowley and Aziraphale had spent the time drinking perhaps more than was prudent, if one wished to interact with the outside world in a fashionable manner. 

Aziraphale’s pouting while complaining of hunger had been the match to a rumbling fire of frustration, so by the time the delivery girl says, “It was with rice, right?”, there is no stopping the flames of hell. 

“Give it,” Crowley hisses, eyes flashing. “If you are too stupid to do this simple task, I do not trust you to be able to throw it away either! I shall do the honours.”

She makes no move to hand it over, which only reveals more foolishness. Who dares to stand in the way of Crowley, demon of the underworld, giver of choice and creator of sin? 

Crowley is about to set the record straight with some well placed infernal curses, when the kid goes from a defensive stance to a huff of relief. 

Aziraphale pipes up behind him, “What is going on? Why are we taking so long, I’m quite hungry— oh there we are. Thank you, dear, it's quite the weather isn’t it?” 

The teen mutters a very audible ‘Thank God’, under her breath, before saying,  “I am sorry, sir, for the delay. There was a traffic jam because of the rain.” Her gaze flickers between them before clearing her throat. “I think we might have gotten the order wrong too and your husband here is not taking it too kindly.” 

Crowley, in a mist of offence, opens his mouth to snap something— anything to put the fear of all that is unholy into this mortal child— how dare she point to him as the villain in this situation when she forgot the egg noodles. It’s Aziraphale’s favorite. It shan’t be forgiven. 

But just before he can speak, he trips over one peculiar word she said and all thought is scattered in the following proverbial fall.

Husband. 

Aziraphale smiles, the kind of smile that soothes even the most prickly of people, and says, “My apologies for my husband’s behavior. He gets fussy when hungry, you know how it is.” 

My husband? 

“I— we—” Crowley splutters, as Aziraphale steals the wallet right out of his hands and pays the abomination of food-delivery dressed in human clothing. “She forgot your egg noodles!”

Aziraphale pats his arm reassuringly. “I’ll just liberate some of your ramen, dear. You never finish the whole thing anyway.” 

At that, the girl sees her chance to flee and slips away in what should be considered a jog, but might look like a walk to the untrained eye. 

Aziraphale closes the door, seemingly completely unperturbed by the situation. He has no trouble guiding Crowley back to the living room, as he has reverted to a static state of complete confoundment. This is because the tiny metaphorical devils in the corners of his mind are too busy upending the archives of Memory. Short moving scenes and stacks of images are flung about mercilessly, all depicting the same inevitable event set to different settings. The Denial. 

“I’m not his friend” “I don’t know him.” “We’re not.” “He is not my—” 

Because always, without fail, Aziraphale clears the air of any uncouth assumptions that humans invariably make about them. 

Crowley never felt the urge to do the same. He would claim that it was professional curiosity— it can be quite useful to know the levels of intimacy different cultures and times reserve for different bonds, impertinent information for temptation all across the board. Secondly, he might claim that the implication of such intimacy is amusing, and therefore he’d wanted to maintain the illusion for entertainment purposes. Thirdly, if desperately, he could argue that this could up his devilish reputation; the idea that he’d tempted an angel of heaven to his wedding bed should be an accomplishment of his own, however unrealistic it might be. 

But this would not be the truth of it, and Crowley had lost the ability to effectively lie to himself somewhere in the last few weeks. Facing an apocalypse does wonders to one’s self-reflection. So he’s now very acutely aware of the real reason why he likes hearing those false impressions. 

It is proof. Though humanity’s perception is often faulty, they’d been able, over the generations, to recognize something that Crowley has always felt, but Aziraphale could not see. It had given him a little speck of hope, that if strangers could feel the tension between them then it wasn’t all projection and that maybe someday—

Yeah. Right. 

The point is, Aziraphale had broken the pattern, which is why Crowley has lost all ability to function.

“Come,” Aziraphale says, looking completely chuffed as he spreads out their dinner on the table. “I’m starving.” 

Crowley sits. Food is about the last thing on his mind right now. 

My husband. My husband. My husband. 

It grates on him, but sweetly— an ache that makes him understand why some people seek out pain for pleasure. He repeats the sequence of events again and again, trying to make it feel less like a dream. Even merely minutes removed, the complete surprise of it has given it an almost fantastical reality. It shimmers in his mind’s eye. A magic trick. It must be. 

Aziraphale, his bastard worth knowing, had not plucked the assumption from the mouth of a stranger and crushed it mercilessly underfoot. He hadn’t even ignored it. 

He’d confirmed it. 

Realising that for the second time doesn’t help matters. On the contrary, it results in Crowley completely losing his mind. 

“Angel, have I missed my own wedding?” Crowley asks idly. Like the idea amuses him. As if a wrong word on this will not break him— at least for half an eternity, give or take. 

When Aziraphale doesn’t immediately respond, Crowley continues, his voice climbing higher and higher as he goes. “Please tell me it was in a church. I’ve always planned to tapdance my way into your hand.” 

He tries to grin at the joke, but it fits like an earthworm on his face. It isn’t even a joke. It is revealing in a way Aziraphale should be able to notice. Any moment now Aziraphale will look at him with that particular frown of confusion, or the soft-featured face of pity. Or even more nightmarish, the gentle smile of kindness, and then crush this shadow of an assumption as mercilessly he’d almost done— almost always done. 

Crowley braces himself and—

Aziraphale chuckles. 

“Oh dear,” he says, pausing to hide a giggle with his hand. “That would have been quite something.” He shakes his head, cheeks flushed with delight, a mirth to his eyes that spells out the kind of admiration of shenanigans, which made him so frustratingly lovable— among other things. 

Crowley should be relieved— the regained security of his most tightly held secret is such a bout of luck that he should be on his knees to thank Her for it. 

But he isn’t. His fist clenches and his breath pushes and pulls with a sudden force. Every huff of laughter from Aziraphale shoots a hot bolt of something painful through his body. How dare he laugh like this? How dare he giggle like it’s nothing but a joke—like it doesn’t matter. As if none of it did. As if there is nothing instrumental and earth shattering about the fact that Aziraphale confirmed it. He agreed with what the stupid kid saw, even if it was just the easiest way to diffuse the situation. He’d never cared about that before. The denial was always more important. So why—

“Why did you—” Crowley stops himself, and takes extra care to keep his voice from climbing. “You always. Always. Denied it. Why did you— Why did you?” 

Aziraphale has stopped giggling and looks at him with wide eyes. “Oh, I’m sorry dear. I didn’t think you would mind.” 

“I—” Crowley sets his jaw and tells the truth. “I don’t.” 

He gets a sceptical eyebrow for his efforts. 

Crowley’s gaze flickers away, looking at nothing in particular. He feels too warm inside of his skin, like he’s stepped into a sauna without noticing. “I just want to understand, Angel.” 

There is a pause, but then Aziraphale clears his throat. “Well, the child was scared, so arguing the point would only draw out the interaction more. I merely wished to end it as soon as I could, granting the both of you peace and quiet.” 

The pitch of Aziraphale’s voice fluctuates in almost a circular manner, reflecting the way he is clearly talking around something Crowley cannot see the shape of, only knowing its existence by the absence of the complete truth. What is he hiding?

“Angel,” Crowley says instead, but the question comes across nonetheless. 

“I’m sorry! I just—” Aziraphale sighs. “It is strange to put words to it so explicitly, but I suppose I agree with the child, in a sense. The English language— as all human languages — is so limited in its descriptions of the higher emotions, which is understandable as they do not experience many of them in their mortal lifetimes… But I have to admit that taking those faults in account, husband is a more accurate moniker than not, relatively speaking.” 

Crowley’s eyes snap to Aziraphale, who is— unperturbed. Not flushed at all. His expression is one of serene contemplation, and Crowley can only theorize that his dearest angel has absolutely no idea what the word “husband” means. 

“I mean, you have to give them kudos for their tireless attempts to craft the right phrases. Poets, if nothing else, are the most determined of all to give language to what they will never understand. But nothing would describe what we are to each other. They could never comprehend a bond stretching over six thousand years; a friendship bridging the greatest divide, that of Heaven and Hell.” 

At this, Aziraphale shakes his head, smiling absently for a moment, and then returns from the far away place his mind had been to meet Crowley’s gaze with sudden intensity. His smile grows larger, but subtly so, like he is trying to tame it unsuccessfully. His cheeks remain un-flushed, but his eyes— his eyes are red and filled with emotion too large to name. 

“Crowley,” Aziraphale says, reaching over to take his hands. “We have saved the world together. We have been godparents, companions through the ages, and no one knows us more than we do each other. What other word is there but husband?” 

Crowley has lost his grasp on words all together. There is nothing to say— nothing to argue, because how can he respond to something so unbearably true and so torturously wrong at the same time? 

If he’d had the capacity to, Crowley would have said— yelled maybe: Yes. We are. We always have been. But no, you blasted angel. No we are not because I love you like human husbands do. And you do not allow me to. 

But he can’t, so instead he nods, very slowly, in a rare moment that is neither the truth nor a lie. 

He’s rewarded with a squeeze of his hands. 

“Oh, I am glad we agree,” Aziraphale says, joyful, and then releases him to gather their plates. “We’ve forgotten all about the food in our excitement. I’m going to heat it up for a mo. Do you want tea in the meantime?” 

The pure casualness of it all is giving Crowley an acute headache. He nods again. 

“Alright, don’t go anywhere dear, I’ll be right back.”  The rest is on ao3!  Tags @proficientatfreakness  @theheirofashandfire  @regvlusblxck @nooraamaliesaetre  @smileatthemoons

[rob-blog1234]

WEEKEND TV HOT FILM PICKS!

Check out my guide to the top films on TV this weekend and the best of the rest. Enjoy!

LATE FRIDAY 15th DECEMBER

HOT PICK!

Syfy @ 2300        Serenity (2005) ****

Serenity is Joss Whedon’s feature length debut. His previous work was the very successful TV series Buffy, Angel and Firefly. In more recent times we know him for the impressive Avengers Assemble and he also wrote the fantastic Horror The Cabin in the Woods. From the very start of his career - he was a success and this shines through in Serenity.

Serenity is a film set 6 months after the series Firefly ended. It’s a futuristic space adventure focusing on the crew of the space ship Serenity captained by the charismatic Mal, played brilliantly by Nathan Fillion. It is a great adaptation of a TV series to feature length film. Mal and his renegade crew of smugglers get by from job to job constantly steering clear of the totalitarian regime of the Alliance. When they agree to transport a Doctor and his sister who are on the run from the Alliance they really didn’t know what they were getting themselves in for.

This film has a great sense of humour and there is a vein of comedy running throughout. Fillion is in his element with this sort of material. It has some great effects and the whole film has an incredible richness to the settings and story that breathes life and realism into a very entertaining and interesting plot. It has some great characters and this “space western” focuses as much on the relationships as it does the main story. Whether you are a fan of the original series or not this is a great space romp accessible to anyone and everyone.

Best of the rest:

GOLD @ 2100     Gremlins 2: the New Batch (1990) ***

E4 @ 2100           The Impossible (2012) ****

 SATURDAY 16th DECEMBER

HOT PICKS!

Film4 @ 2100      Men in Black (1997) *****

There's no better way of celebrating the weekend than with an action packed Sci-Fi Comedy. Men in Black is exactly that. Unbeknownst to the general public a secret department of Men in Black police the goings on of aliens on earth. We are introduced to some great characters, particularly Tommy Lee Joneses Agents K who offers Will Smith a job in the agency as Agent J. The two agents get caught up in an intergalactic terrorist plot that could destroy the Earth. Its comic book beginnings show through the direction and camera work of Barry Sonnerfeld to great effect. It is full of some pretty good CGI and special effects that were state of the art in 1997 and still hold up really well today. The script is well put together, fast and snappy with some fabulous dialogue which further strengthens the relationships and chemistry between the two agents. It's short but sweet at around 90 mins, perfect for a film that's a bit of fun. It doesn't take itself too seriously and so shouldn't the audience. This is great action, comedy Sci-Fi escapism.

Horror @ 0045   Eden Lake (2008) ****

I was surprised how truly horrible this film was, I am surprised how uncomfortable it made me feel and I’m sure that’s exactly what the makers were hoping it to do. It is very unforgiving and deals with such difficult subject matter that I don’t think this film withstands any more than a single watch. It is a bleak, brutal, and more importantly, a very realistic horror that I truly never ever wanted to watch again after my first viewing. In fact all subsequent attempted re-watches have ended in only being able to half watch it as I know what horrible events are coming. The reason for its affectation is purely down to the realism and the ability of the viewer to relate to the characters - they are very realistic and believable. The situations that they find themselves in seem very close to home. If you have ever been witness to gangs of youths on buses or in town centres causing trouble - then this film will really strike a nerve.

A couple’s weekend in the woods turns into a living nightmare as a group of aggressive youths come on the scene. This Horror film contains no aliens, no fantastical beings, no CGI creatures lurking in the night - just pure evil… the evil of people… and we are far more evil than any made up beast that we see on screen. The pace picked up just when required and the story contains a few timely surprises. At the end of this film I was left sitting in stunned silence whilst the credits rolled. This film really isn’t very nice… but unfortunately it really is rather good.

Best of the rest:

ITV3 @ 0825       Ben-Hur (1959) *****

ITV1 @ 1830       The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey (2012) ***

5* @ 2100           Dirty Dancing (1987) ***

Skyarts @ 0045 Chocolat (2000) ****

Film4 @ 0100     A Dark Song (2016) ****

 SUNDAY 17th DECEMBER

HOT PICKS!

Gold @ 1530       It's a Wonderful Life (1946) *****

This is one of the greatest Christmas films ever made - it defines Christmas. It is a feel good film - plain and simple. A perfect Christmas film. No matter how you are feeling - It’s a Wonderful Life is sure to lift the spirits. Merry Christmas!

ITV2 @ 1915       Gravity (2013) *****

Back in 2013 our senses were overloaded with this new level of cinematic experience. It restored my faith in IMAX 3D proving it still had a place in cinemas and it also became one of my favourite films of the year. It felt like I had seen this many times but in fact all I have always done is watched the opening 20 mins over and again, showing its spectacle to friends and family as the destruction of Explorer booms through the surround sound. So surprisingly, this was my first full re-watch.

One thing is certain - this is still an amazing spectacle and the unbelievable amounts of tension remain very much alive on re-watch. I was still left holding my breath at many points during the film. I was still completely gripped throughout, I had actually forgotten how exciting some of the scenes were, my memory almost always just focuses on the opening scene. Admittedly this time I did roll my eyes at some of the script but instantly forgot and forgave them as the tension once again ratcheted up and the next explosive sequence battered my senses into submission.

I called this film a “cinematic success” and this still holds true. It still works wonders on a big & loud home cinema set ups but I doubt it would have the same impact on small screens and portable devices. This film needs to be accompanied by the large cinematic set ups it was obviously created for. A solid, visually ground-breaking film that still carries the tension and adrenalin on repeat viewing. Love it.

C4 @ 2200           Die Hard (1988) *****

John McClane comes home for Christmas but manages to bump into a load of terrorists lead by the amazing Alan Rickmann as the sinister Hans Gruber. Here begins John McClane’s bad luck stint getting mixed up with bad guys where ever he goes. Great story, classic 80’s Action. A must see Action Film. The greatest Christmas film.

C4 @ 0225           I Origins (2014) ****

I was really impressed with Mark Cahill's Another Earth so when I saw this pop up in the cinema I had to catch it before it's limited release pushed it into catch-it-late-on-Blu-ray territory. I'm so glad we caught the late showing on a Saturday night. The cinema was empty... Perfect.

Dealing with scepticism, spirituality, Science and Religion this film takes a few big leaps that you need to roll with but it is put together in such a beautiful way. A splendid cast with performances to be proud of, especially Michael Pitt's Dr. Ian Gray. He shines throughout and is almost always on screen. The beauty does not just end with the cast. Cahill is honing his skills and it looks absolutely stunning, each and every shot purposefully placed and combined with a soundtrack that is expectedly cool and quirky with great mood, it certainly is a lovely ride. The use of Radiohead's "Motion Picture Soundtrack" in the close is fantastic.

So much happens in the plot I'm not delving into it here as that will rush the detailed sequence of events that mould and manoeuvre our lead. The subject matter and the questions it raise are admittedly deep and I felt continually torn as certain events unfold. It touches on many issues and ideas, from reincarnation, belief systems, religion and spirituality all through a scientific platform of a desire and necessity to prove and disprove. It certainly throws up some chewy subject matter. I for one think it was handled well in the most part.

I'm sure this will be a bit chalk or cheese for some with some leaps too far, but I was won over by its overall feel. A great looking film. I am certainly impressed with Cahill's next step in film. I hope he can keep this momentum going.

Best of the rest:

Film4 @ 1100      The Book of Life (2014) ****

BBC1 @ 1450      Toy Story 2 (1999) *****

C4 @ 1505           Jingle all the Way (1996) ***

Syfy @ 1700        The Last Starfighter (1984) ****

ITV1 @ 2000        The Hobbit: the Desolation of Smaug (2013) ***

Comedy @ 2100 There's Something About Mary (1998) ****

TCM @ 2100       The Deer Hunter (1978) *****

ITV4 @ 2255        Gangs of New York (2002) ****

C5 @ 2300           Sleepy Hollow (2013) ****